Worth The Shot

A Ghost Town

This fanart is by mystique_777! It's of Camilo and (y/n)! This picture is SO cute to me!! Just the way Camilo is looking at her is so sweet and loving. It's giving me Felix husband vibes ahhhh

BACK TO THE STORY

Mariano balled his fists, preparing to fight.

But his heroic gesture wasn't necessary. The guards uneasily backed away. You weren't harmless anymore. Scowling, they hastily retreated to the trapdoor, intimidated by the towering, muscular frame defending you. 

You needed to hurry. They would immediately warn the old man and your father. They'd know.  A sharp terror pierced you for the boy you'd left behind. 

They would be furious. Humiliated by your overlooked escape. Searing the Encanto in their vengeful search for you. And they'd take it out on Camilo. 

Pain like sour candy sickened your stomach. Camilo knew nothing. But blinded by lenses of rage, they wouldn't believe that. They'd demand answers. 

They'd hurt him. The old man with his twisted knives and your father with his cruel smile. If Camilo was lucky, they'd just beat him. But what other tortures would they concoct to scare a 15-year-old into submission? Cutting off a finger? Hurting his mother and forcing him to watch? Drowning?  

Camilo's selfless plea flashed through your head. "I know you want to only think about me. But I need to think about my whole family. Can you do that?"

"Dolores," you weakly begged Mariano, snapping yourself to the task in front of you. You couldn't go back. "I need to get to Dolores. Right now." 

"Alright," Mariano worriedly agreed, flicking his fingers as a motion for you to follow. His lengthy legs gracefully stepped toward the village. Willowy tendrils of grass grazed his pants like soft needles. His noble gentleness belonged in a painting. No wonder Alma approved of his marriage to Isabela. 

Mariano hesitantly glanced at you, but shyly didn't speak. You missed Camilo. When you were upset, he'd always rambled with silly conversations to distract you. 

 An eerie cloud draped over the village. Something wasn't right. 

The clustered houses maintained their orderly rows along the street. People still rustled through the marketplace. But a morose, gray silence settled on the cobblestones and rooftops like thick dust.

What's going on? Why is everybody so quiet?

Mariano ducked his head as you plunged into the restless blur of the mute crowd. Inexplicably, you felt ashamed by the dull pound of your footsteps, as if the noise itself flaunted your irreverence to the grave occasion. 

You pushed through shoulders, fighting to trail behind Mariano in the forest of bodies. You squinted, uneasily sweeping glances around the marketplace. A hooded woman muttered with Valeria, the fish lady, sliding a sack of coins onto her wooden stand. 

Has somebody died? 

The woman and Valeria suddenly met your gaze, and you jolted uncomfortably. Their tired eyes glared hollowly, shadowed by resentment. Shivering, you hurried closer to Mariano, unsettled by their unfriendliness. 

Casita's rigid silhouette struck the blue-bruised sky like a haunted mansion. The bubbly home of the Madrigals had morphed into something menacing. You hesitantly scuttled toward the abandoned courtyard, anxious to find Dolores. 

"Senor Mariano!" A hooded man gravely acknowledged, barring your path. "State your purpose in entering this house." Astonished, you searched the man's hardened features for a glimmer of humor. Was he joking? 

"Hunting for rats," Mariano complied, his voice deliberately monotone. The ritualistic, soldier-like questioning was so obscure, you could have laughed. But you were too disturbed to laugh. 

"Rats. For your mother," the man curtly nodded with mild sympathy. "Food has been scarce. Good luck, there should be plenty in there."

Where were the Madrigals? Why was a reason needed to enter Casita? You almost hurled your urgent questions at the man, but a guarded mistrust in Mariano's expression silenced you. 

What's going on? Light raindrops pecked your skin. Cold, but too slow for even a drizzle, with long intervals between each individual splash. You huffed in frustration. Even the rain withheld from you. 

To ward away insanity, you compiled what you knew for certain.

Casita hadn't collapsed. That meant the miracle candle still burned, flickering its eternal light into the mountain darkness. The old man  was the cloaked figure who had snatched away the candle the night you fell. You were sure of it. 

"Casita?" You uncomfortably whispered into the still, murky house. The floorboards were stiff as coffins underneath your feet. 

Food had run out. That made sense; the villagers never stockpiled more than they immediately consumed. Why would they? Isabella's flower farm reliably supplied an endless current of food. 

Mariano purposefully halted, facing Casita's wall, his back to you. You frowned, confused. There's nothing here. 

He stood motionless, like a ghost. And the floor swallowed him whole.